


That Awkward Moment

by coolhandjennie



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Awkward Boners, F/M, Fluff, JAB June, Jaime's Awkward Boner June Fest, other people's weddings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-01
Updated: 2017-07-05
Packaged: 2018-11-21 19:03:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 2,732
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11363679
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/coolhandjennie/pseuds/coolhandjennie
Summary: Brienne's about to discover Jaime's rising...feelings for her very publicly and very awkwardly.





	1. The Ceremony

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Isola_Caramella](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Isola_Caramella/gifts).



> I'm gifting this to Isola_Caramella for gifting US with so many amazing JABby entries this June. This boner's for you, kid! XD

At first Brienne thinks everyone is laughing at her. She can’t help it. For all the confidence and self-esteem she’s built up over the years, a lifetime of self consciousness kicks her anxiety into overdrive when she first hears the wedding guests tittering in the pews. She’s easily the tallest member of the wedding party, though at least Jaime is nearly as tall, creating some symmetry as they flank the bride and groom from their respective positions as maid of honor and best man. She may tower over the not-so-blushing bride but no more than Jaime does over Tyrion, who stands atop a festooned wooden stepladder to be of an equal height with Margaery.

For once in her life, Brienne kind of feels pretty. It’s all about the dress; the Grecian-style drapery complements her height without drawing attention to her lack of curves. She knows Margie picked it as much for the way it flatters her as to ensure attractive wedding pictures, though her friend would deny both assertions. So she knows that she isn’t standing out like a freak and should just chill out.

People are definitely laughing, though. She tries her level best to ignore them and concentrate on the minister’s allegory but her efforts are thwarted when her fellow bridesmaid nudges her from behind. It’s very subtle of course, not so’s anyone would notice; Sansa would never flaunt decorum, certainly not during the fairy tale wedding she’d planned to perfection. Brienne ignores it but that just earns her a pinch. Trying not to frown, she casually (she hopes) cranes her neck around to glare at Sansa, who juts her chin forward.

Brienne follows Sansa's gaze to Jaime, who looks a little red in the face, which is unusual unless he’s been drinking, which she knows he hasn’t. He’s very focused on the minister; this is also unusual as Jaime can’t seem to pay attention to much of anything for very long, let alone a droning clergyman in an overly warm room. His eyes meet hers briefly but immediately dance away. It takes tremendous effort to keep her face from crumpling into its characteristic scowl. She’s not sure what he’s up to but it’s pretty clear he’s the cause of the commotion. She worries that if he messes with Tyrion during the ceremony, Margaery might do him bodily harm. Not that he wouldn’t deserve it but she’d prefer not to have to act as the bouncer at her friend’s wedding.

She’s about to look away when she sees it and once she sees it, she can’t look away. It’s pretty hard to ignore. _Difficult_ , she scolds herself distractedly. It’s _difficult_ to ignore Jaime’s raging hard on, his tented trousers presented for the entire congregation to see.


	2. The Once-Over

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In which the Italian Renaissance & Greek mythology are part of Westerosi cultural canon.

Even Jaime has to admit, it really doesn’t get any more awkward than this. He prays the videographer is shooting from the waist up (spoiler alert: he isn’t) or the gods themselves won’t be able to spare him the wrath of Margaery Tyrell-Lannister. It really isn’t his fault, though; he was blindsided by Brienne and that dress she was had on. Why didn’t anyone warn him? His brother teases him often enough for being a grown man with a schoolboy crush, you’d think the little bastard would’ve seen trouble ahead; schoolboys are notoriously pervy, after all.

When she stepped out of the limo in front of the church, he knew he was a goner. Her hair was an impossible combination of sleek and wild, her lips pink, plump, and glossy, and she was encased in miles of blue silk. It cascaded over her body like water, requiring very little imagination when he thought about how warm her firm musculature would feel beneath the wispy fabric. The way the material was draped, he couldn’t tell if she was wearing a bra or not. It wasn’t likely, given the cut of the dress and her propensity to go “commando” during the summer months, but he became obsessed with knowing. Which is how she caught him staring at her tits. He would have looked away but the instant she became aware of his gaze, her nipples pebbled and he had his confirmation.

The more he thinks about it, the more he feels the victim here. If his feelings for his best friend are so godsdamned transparent, shouldn’t they all have seen this coming? It’s almost like they set him up, like they’re daring him to make a move. Well, Jaime Lannister is not one to back down from a challenge. 

Sick and tired of being embarrassed about feelings he isn’t ashamed of in the first place, Jaime tries to ignore the party in his pants as he looks over the wedding couple’s heads at Brienne, who’s staring right at him. A thrill of victory shoots through him when he sees the rise and fall of her throat as she swallows in trepidation. He breaks their gaze in order to take her in once again. His eyes crawl up her body in a long, lingering once over, from her artfully sandaled feet, up the Amazonian length of one freckled leg exposed in a thigh-high slit, to the gracefully draped halter that draws attention to her swan white neck, until finally meeting her eyes again, at which point his gaze darkens, and she trembles.

She fidgets and the dress falls open to expose a bit more leg. He thinks of running his hand up even further to see just how commando she’s gone, which is _not_ helping his current situation. He’ll definitely blow his chance with her if he blows his load in front of a churchful of people so he tries to conjure the most revolting images he can imagine in an effort to deflate his erection, anything to take his mind off the goddess before him.

Brienne would punch him if she ever caught him describing her as goddess-like but really, what other word applies? She has the body of a Renaissance sculpture. She might not be an Aphrodite but she was most definitely an Artemis; he actually saw her wield a bow and arrow once and it was fucking magnificent. She was The Huntress, lithe and strong, made flesh before him. A goddess indeed.

So maybe now she’ll finally take the fucking hint. He needs her to know that she’s responsible for his condition, that she _can_ in fact arouse a man, despite what her dickhead ex-boyfriend has to say. Sure, his timing could be better, he can’t refute that. But the situation had arisen, so to speak, beyond his control, so what was there to do except go with it? If nothing else, it’ll force her to talk about their feelings. There’s no avoiding the conversation _now_ , that’s for certain. Every time he’s tried to bring it up she either makes a joke, rolls her eyes or changes the subject. Good luck ignoring _this_ development, he thinks with barely contained glee.


	3. The Limo

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Double update!

As soon as they exit the church, Jaime barricades himself behind Brienne.

“You’ve got to save me, wench. My reputation is in tatters!”

“And you want to, what? Tear mine down too?” She smiles to take the sting out of the jab. She knows if she doesn’t, he’ll take her overly serious delivery to heart. He’s such a softy, it’s kind of funny.

He pulls back in mock dismay. “Will you not defend my honor?”

Brienne snorts. “What honor?”

His face falls a bit at that - _such_ a softy! - so she winks over her shoulder and holds the limo door open for him. “Quick, get in before the paparazzi preserve your awkward church boner for posterity.”

Given the collective of Lannisters, Tyrells, Martells, and Targaryens in the house there actually _are_ paparazzi outside the church, so hers isn’t an idle threat, though it would turn out to be a futile hope, as it were.

Before she can follow him into the car, Sansa whisks her away to the pink limo that’s been reserved for the maids of honor, so she’s spared Jaime’s sure-to-be-boner-related rapid-fire nervous small talk, at least for the moment. It’s not like he’d be shy about it just because Bronn and Pod were in the car, too. And it’s certainly not like Bronn won’t be talking about it constantly, either. So she’s relieved, primarily. And OK yes, maybe a little disappointed because even though it makes her incredibly nervous, she knows today is going to be the day they have The Talk.

The way he looked at her…She shivers at the memory. No man has ever looked at her that way before. There was more than just lust in Jaime’s eyes; there was a promise. She’s pretty sure she knows what he’s going to say the next time they’re alone together, and she’s pretty sure she knows what she’s going to say back, and she’s pretty sure she knows how he’s going to respond to her response. She just really, really hopes they’re ready to deal with the consequences. And also that he doesn’t cause a scene. It would be really, really great if he doesn’t ruin his brother’s wedding.


	4. Pictures

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Double update!

They arrive at Highgarden and are immediately whisked away for photos in the Southeast rose garden. Luckily for Jaime, Margaery wants them arranged girl-boy, even though Brienne is taller than him. This is fortunate because although Bronn’s predictably crass comments during the ride were helpfully boner-deflating, standing this close to Brienne in that dress was undoing all his hard work, and she makes the perfect human shield.

They’re arranged in ascending order: Bronn down on one knee, Sansa perched warily on the other; Pod and Margaery’s goodsister Leonettestand beside them; Margaery and Tyrion stand on mismatched daises that again make them an even height; and finally the blond giants at the end, one of them slightly cowering.

“Wedding party, stand a little closer to each other please, thank you,” the photographer intones, his remark clearly aimed at Jaime and Brienne.

Jaime sighs in defeat and closes the distance between them. His eyes close for a brief moment when his hand touches her hip, holding her steady against him. She feels as perfect as he imagined. The giddiness of being so close to her out in the open, combined with the tension of the past hour, overrides his libido enough to keep his nether regions in check. Sort of. A little bit. Better than in the church, anyway.

Brienne’s body is alarmingly rigid. In an effort to make her relax, he leans into her in that way of his that he knows she likes. She’s never admitted as much, of course, but he knows. It’s not that he’s trying to manipulate her per se but he needs to pull out all the stops and isn’t above fighting dirty. Not lack-of-honor dirty, just a bit of pushing-his-luck dirty. He shakes her by the hip.

“Come on wench,” he murmurs in her ear, “loosen up, will you? I’m not going to maul you in public. Maybe behind that shrubbery over there, but not in public.”

She discreetly elbows him in the ribs. “I know that,” she whisper-growls through a frozen smile, eyes focused on the camera.

“I can’t help it, you know. I’m a victim of biology. Biology, and this fucking dress. Stranger strike me, Brienne, you’re killing me. You know that, right?”

Jaime knows he’s making progress when he observes not only a fractional softening of her body against his, but the moment she loses the battle against her blush, as well.


	5. The Reception

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Cinderella is part of Westerosi literary canon.

At least she can feel guilt-free about ruining Margaery’s wedding photos with her stupid splotchy blush, since she knows they’ll be professionally color corrected.Otherwise Brienne would never be able to enjoy the reception. It helps that she’s off the hook for the wedding toast, too. Knowing how excruciating Brienne finds public speaking, Margie absolved her of that particular duty, though she suspects it also made it easier for Margaery to keep a muzzle on Jaime.

She knows she won’t be able to hide out in a far corner this time. She isn’t a guest at this wedding; out of everyone in her dazzling social circle, Margaery chose _her_ to stand by her side on the most important day of her life. Brienne doesn’t take this responsibility lightly. She might feel a bit awkward but she will participate in the party as joyfully as she did the ceremony even if it kills her. She just has to get through the first dance with Jaime. If she survives that, she can survive anything.

They walk in a procession to the main tent, Brienne and Jaime ducking under the awning and joining the line-up on the dance floor, ignoring the chuckles that follow them. The laughter is immediately shouted down by cheers of congratulations as the bride and groom enter the tent. The wedding party retreats to the edge of the dance floor but doesn’t sit down, oh no; Sansa has them on a meticulously orchestrated dance schedule. After Margaery and Tyrion dance to “their” song, she dances with her father and he dances with his Aunt Genna for half a song, at which point his father cuts in to dance with Margie and Tyrion dances with her grandmother. When the next song starts, Sansa prods Brienne onto the floor.

Antiquated tradition would dictate she have a go with Tyrion, and Jaime with Margaery, but that was where Tyrion finally put his foot down. Since he agreed to every extravagance Margaery and Sansa could concoct, they felt obligated to honor his single request. Tyrion and Brienne had exchanged relieved glances that day.

Instead, the bride and groom reconnoiter and Brienne and Jaime join them. They only have to stay until the rest of the wedding party is on the floor, which will be the signal for the rest of the guests to join in. Brienne anticipates a hasty retreat thereafter.

The only way to avoid Jaime’s piercing gaze is to stand close enough to rest her chin on his shoulder. She feels hims struggle between wanting to pull away and talk, and taking advantage of her docility. Normally she’d be in full flight mode by now, like some bizarro version of Cinderella running from the ball. Not that she wants Jaime to chase her. She’s not playing a game with him even though she knows she’s been unfair, ignoring the heart on his sleeve. It’s not that she doubts his sincerity when he tries to talk about having _more_ , before she shuts him down or changes the subject. What they have is so great, and so important to her, what if they’re being greedy and everything gets wrecked? What if they turn into one of those horrible couples who pick away at each other until there’s nothing left? What if he changes his mind?

For a moment Brienne pretends she’s just a girl dancing with a boy. She leans into Jaime and lets him lead. She revels in the warm muscularity of him, the scent of roses and cologne on his lapel, the brush of stubble against her ear. His right hand is dry around her clammy left palm, elbows close to their bodies, his knuckles grazing her jaw. His left hand rests on the bare skin at the small of her back, softly kneading her spine when he’s not directing her around the dance floor.

Something else kneads her hip, shattering the illusion. No storybook fairytales for Brienne; more like awkward boners in public. What the hell. But then again, it's so crazy that a man as beautiful as Jaime Lannister can be turned on by someone as…not beautiful as her, maybe this is like some kind of cosmic balance.

“So I guess we should talk,” she says softly in his ear, letting her lips brush oh so slightly against his earlobe. She doesn’t play games but she’s not above a good tease when it’s called for.

He squeezes her tightly before pulling back just enough to meet her gaze, eyes eager though he forces himself to be patient. “We really should,” he agrees. “Have we fulfilled our ceremonial duties for the evening?”

She smiles and nods. “We have.”

His smile is heart-meltingly devilish. “Well then, where shall we abscond to?”

“Follow me,” she says with a teasing smirk, pulling him after her. “There’s a very convenient shrubbery nearby.”

**Author's Note:**

> Had to get this in under the wire! Hope you enjoyed the ending. Thanks so much for all the lovely comments!


End file.
